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Damn, this girl is really pretty. Which means she’s dating some guy in a band. Some guy with a job. Some guy with a smaller nose and a bigger dick. Some guy who is more confident. Some guy who would go talk to her at a party. Or perhaps this selfsame coffee shop. She sits there reading wishing a not bad looking guy would talk to her and one day one of them did and now he’s dating her. Listening to her discuss her boring schoolbooks, yes, but also fucking her. White skin black hair. Like she ought to be in a Frazetta painting wrapped around some barbarian’s thighs as he lofts a claymore over a dragon’s corpse, its eyes still glowing. Her fingers digging into the meat of your back. She notices the mass you have added to your rear deltoids. A tough muscle to isolate but you took care to hit it hard and now she notices. Her sweaty pussy on a hot day. She’s maybe 24. Young enough to have that glow, but an adult. Someone has her. Not you. You should have bought an amp and got in a band. Whatever. Her shoes are stupid.

“Portions of Might Is Right comprise much of the “Book of Satan” section of the Satanic Bible, authored by Anton LaVey of the Church of Satan. The first edition of The Satanic Bible did not cite sources, but did include a dedication to Redbeard that was taken out of the current Avon editions.

“Today most Satanists, including non-LaVeyans, consider Might is Right to be an important book representing the Satanic view of nature.”

I know guys in bands who don’t get any action, I know guys in bands who have long term girlfriends. It’s only effective if the band has good exposure. I was in band too a few years ago, you have to game just as hard for indie chicks in their grandmas beige cardigan.

Go up to her and talk to her you tool! What good does it do either of you to sit and sulk? If she has a boyfriend, get her number anyway and see if she’ll meet you for coffee; maybe you’ll hit it off. If she doesn’t want to give you her number, she’s more likely to be flattered than judgmental. You only turn yourself into an anxious loner by teasing your desire up to a fever pitch while simultaneously writing yourself off as a categorical sexual failure in her eyes.

My apologies if you wrote this as some kind of meta-criticism but I always err on the side of taking people at their word.